Storytime: The day I had my tonsils removed

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. Why on earth is a girl on the verge of her twenties, at university, writing her first post on a tonsillectomy? Well dear reader, I am currently laid in bed very bored, reading the only few blog posts floating about on the internet about people’s experiences of having their tonsils out and I thought sod it, I might as well share my story too!

Once upon a time there was a girl who kept getting tonsillitis saw a specialist who shoved a camera down her nose to look at her throat and declared the tonsils could be removed in a few months time if the girl wished them to be.  On the 20^th June 2017 her wish was granted.

Nerves only hit me the morning of my surgery. I had been excited to get them out after ending up in urgent care twice the month before thanks to tonsillitis. After a shaky goodbye to my then flat mate (she moved out that evening and I was literally shaking as I hugged her) I jumped into an Uber and went to the hospital. I felt quite fancy pulling up in a BMW. Totally worth the extra £8 I spend rather than get a bus, right?

I was informed that the list would not start until half one and I would be going first. over an hour and a half away. I was immediately grateful for ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary’ in my bag. After this I was then told to go and pee in a pot, which as an obeying patient I did. Even returned it with a sheepish smile, as if smug that I managed to pee in a pot so small with minimal mess. Manufactures should review the width of them really.  After a wait with Bridget I get called though by the nurse to admit me onto the ward. Brilliant. I’m not nervous as I have admitted many people onto a day surgery ward before, as I am a student nurse and completed a placement in one. I sit down and to my horror I hear the nurse say the word ‘large’ for my TED Stockings. I insist she measured it wrong.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being s large but I know my size, I measured them on placement and I’m a slim girl, so I knew she had it wrong. She measures my other ankle and she’s confused as it reads as a small. She doesn’t believe it as my previous ankle was a large. Despite no visible size difference between my ankles she reaches for the large stockings. Panic sets in. I need these to fit! So without really thinking I snatch the tape measure from the nurse, measure the ‘large ankle’ and exclaim “see, it is a small!” quickly followed by an embarrassed apology and explanation that no I’m not a bitch, just an apparently bitchy nurse in training. Oops. She quickly found me a size small and thankfully she was lovely to me after that and had a great chat about nursing. I’m not a bitch after all! After that I got changed into the sexy hospital gown provided, the TED stockings and sat down reading about Bridget’s January and chatting to the ladies next to me in between meeting with the surgeons and anaesthetists.

At 2pm I found myself walking into the anaesthetic room. I’m annoyed at myself for how I handled myself as although I was reasonably calm, I thought I would be ‘braver’ as I had seen people get put under before. But being the patient is an entirely different experience and I think that theme runs throughout this ‘journey’.

The only thing I was scared about stepping into the room was getting my cannula inserted. Highly ironic as I have watched more than I can count be inserted, removed hundreds myself and always tell patients not to feel scared to have them inserted. Before this day I had been looking forward to having one inserted in hope the doctor telling me what great veins I have, in a poor attempt to flirt. I don’t know if the doctor viewed my veins as great, because I was inserted once I was put under general anaesthetic. Well, it would have been rude to refuse such a kind offer… clearly my nerves were showing! I hadn’t been nervous to go under anaesthetic at all, a few minutes before though that changed. “Is that the anaesthetic?! Is that going to put me to sleep?!” I was asking every time the put the oxygen mask over my face and I didn’t believe them when they said it was only oxygen that the anaesthetic would smell sweet and that’s how I would know. And boy did I soon know. As soon as I smelt the sweet scent I once again asked and this time it was confirmed and was told all I needed to do was breathe it in whist they counted back from 10. So I held my breath. They told me to breathe in. I held my breath, they asked again and so I eventually inhaled it in, I had no choice, I couldn’t hold my breath forever. I remember thinking how strange it will be to be asleep out of my control. I remember hearing ‘four’ and feeling really whooshy… then I woke up in recovery.

I woke up confused AF and in agony. If I remember rightly, I started sobbing whilst trying to establish what on earth was going on. Something was on my face and that panicked me until I realised it was my glasses and an oxygen mask. I was at first baffled by my cannula as it looked different to the ones used in my hospital. There were wires on my pillow above my head and I realised I was on a drip, that has now finished. The nurse came over to me, told me that I had woken up earlier a couple of times (no memory of this!). I asked her how long I was in surgery for and she told me fifteen minutes. It seems I forgot this a lot as soon after she told me to calm down as she had just told me 4 times in 5 minutes. Oops! She asked me about my pain (7/10) and kept giving me IV morphine until it went under control. I am not good with handling pain at all so I ended up getting drugged up to the maximum dose I could have. Worked a treat and took it down to a 3. Although it did make me feel so sick that I had to be given drugs for that too. Do not underestimate the pain of an adult tonsillectomy like I had done prior to surgery!

After that, horror struck. I needed a wee and badly. But I had only just come around from anaesthetic. I’m a student nurse who’s worked in recovery. I know what that meant. The thing I’m forever fetching for eighty-odd little old ladies. A bedpan. I know I always joke about being a grandma but this was taking the piss. Ha! Turns out bedpans are quite the challenge to wee in when you’re practically laying down so a lot of respect to those grannies who rather go in them than be escorted to an actual loo. Bloody fluid drip.

After that I was transferred to a ward for six hours of monitoring before I could be discharged. An hour or two (my sense of time was quite warped but there was a clock on the wall which kept me in track) I need the loo again. Great! But this time my lovely new nurse walked me to an actual toilet. I was surprised at how light headed I felt and how I was bambi on ice, my poor nurse had me clinging on her for dear life! After that I was encouraged to eat some toast. I still had morphine in my system so the pain was very tolerable and managed o problem, probably because I hadn’t eaten since 7am and by now in was around 5pm! Felt very sick after so I had more IV anti sickness drugs and they are great, would highly recommend for all your anti sickness needs. Apart from those two rather thrilling events, I spent the time napping. Fast forward to 8pm when I got picked up by my mum and step dad who had driven 100 miles for the honour and resulted in my mum having a sleepover at uni with me to monitor me as I wasn’t allowed to be alone for the first 24 hours post op. And that was it! Just had a two week recovery to face, but more on that another day…

Thank you for reading, I hope this sheds some light if you are due to the operation, know someone who is or are simply curious. Please leave any comments or questions below and share with people who this might help.

With love,

Lily Alice xo


Twitter: @lilyalicewrites